


Grenade

by ember_firedrake



Category: Hawaii Five-0 (2010)
Genre: Arguing, Humor, M/M, Music, Radio
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-03-19
Updated: 2011-03-19
Packaged: 2017-10-17 02:50:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 902
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/172121
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ember_firedrake/pseuds/ember_firedrake
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Title is from the Bruno Mars song of the same name. Because I heard the song on the radio and thought, “For Steve, this is totally an appropriate way to express your feelings.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Grenade

Whoever came up with the adage, “Driver picks the music, shotgun shuts his cakehole,” Danny thinks, must have had control issues. It isn’t fair, that in _his_ car, which _Steve_ spends most of the time driving, Danny can’t even control what’s on the radio. Steve doesn’t let him, casting him that smug grin and manipulating the radio controls from buttons on the wheel. Damn Camaro and its stupid high-tech features.

It wouldn’t be so bad if he would just _pick a good station_. The car has satellite radio, but _nooooo_ , Steve much prefers flipping between a couple FM stations, sometimes leaving them there during _radio commercials_. Why would anyone willingly listen to radio commercials? Danny’s hands twitch in his lap, itching to reach out and change the station, but he resists the impulse. It’s this game he and Steve play sometimes—see how long Danny can go without bitching at Steve. Or at least, it’s a game Danny likes to imagine they’re playing.

Steve turns the volume up as a new song comes on.

 _Easy come, easy go, that's just how you live  
Oh, take, take, take it all but you never give_

“What is this? Is this R&B?” Danny asks. It’s not bitching if it’s a legitimate question.

“Shhh, I like this song,” Steve says, drumming his hands on the wheel along to the beat.

“I get that, hence the volume change. But _why_.”

Steve shrugs. “I dunno. Makes me think of you, I guess,” he says, just as the chorus starts playing over the Camaro’s speakers.

 _I'd catch a grenade for ya  
Throw my hand on a blade for ya  
I'd jump in front of a train for ya  
You know I'd do anything for ya_

Much to Danny’s horror, Steve begins singing along halfway through.

“Whoa, babe, wait a second. Are you serious? Are you, like, actually meaning this shit? Because catching a grenade? That’s not romantic, that’s _suicidal_. And if you _ever_ jump in front of a train for me, I will personally beat your ass. I prefer you _whole_ , thank you very much.” The Camaro’s interior is not nearly spacious enough for what Danny’s hands are trying to convey.

Steve’s got the wounded lost-puppy expression out, that confused why-can’t-I-kick-down-doors-or-ride-motorcycles-up-stairs face. And oh god, Danny hopes he hasn’t actually offended Steve, because that might be bad, but _come on_.

“Are you— _really_? With the song?”

“Well…yeah,” Steve says. Trust Steve to find a song that would convey his poorly articulated mental state better than he could.

“And is that… _that’s_ why you’re always throwing yourself headlong into dangerous situations, because it’s how you express your _feelings_ for people?”

Steve’s wounded face says it all.

“Oh my god, how do you function in society?” Danny is incredulous, voice going into higher decibels as he gains momentum. “ _Normal people_ , and by that I mean almost everyone else in a relationship, do not express their affection by _catching grenades_. They do nice things for each other, they make breakfast in bed, or maybe cook dinner, they say stuff like ‘I love you, you goof’…how is that so difficult for you?”

“You love me?”

“That’s not what we’re talking about! We’re talking about your inability to communicate!” Danny’s hands punctuate the air between him and the dashboard, making jabbing motions towards the car’s speakers.

“This is how I communicate, Danny,” Steve says, and damn it, the crazy bastard is serious. The chorus of the song comes around again, and Steve shoots him a quick, almost bashful grin before singing along;

 _“I would go through all this pain  
Take a bullet straight through my brain  
Yes, I would die for you, baby  
But you won't do the same”_

“That’s because I value my life!” Danny cries. He is not prepared to deal with this, has no frame of reference to compare this to. He pinches a thumb and forefinger to the bridge of his nose.

Steve pouts, honest to god _pouts_ , and Danny feels like a heel.

“Sorry, I’m being an asshole,” Danny mutters.

Steve doesn’t say anything for a moment, and the song continues to play.

“I’m not—” Steve begins, then pauses. “I wouldn’t do anything needlessly risky to _prove_ my feelings. But…you have to understand, if someone I care about is in danger…I mean it, I’d do any of that stuff. Wouldn’t you? For Grace?”

And of course, Steve knows the answer to that, knows that Danny would do anything to keep Grace safe. Steve doesn’t add _for me?_ but Danny can hear it in his tone, the words hanging in the air between them.

“Yeah…yeah, I would,” Danny says. And then, because it needs to be said, he adds, “You know what else? If it was you in danger, I’d go in without backup. I mean, I’d call for backup, of course…but I wouldn’t be able to wait for them to get there.”

The look Steve flashes at Danny is so genuine, so _fond_ , that he can’t help but smile in return. Danny hasn’t categorized that face yet, because this is the first time he’s seen it, but _I love you, too_ might be a good name for it.

“Anyway,” Danny says, “This song? Gotta say, I’m a little insulted. _‘Gave you all I had, and you tossed it in the trash’_? Would I ever be that callous?”

Steve laughs. “You, callous? Never.”


End file.
